


Unbearable Dream

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Eating Disorders, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Infertility, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: Dean and the Reader are in an established relationship and are trying to start a family. However, the reader has been keeping an important secret from Dean. When the truth comes out, both partners must reevaluate their priorities.





	Unbearable Dream

You walk down the hall of the bunker. As you near the library, you see Dean leaning over the table with his back to you. Sam is sitting across from him and notices your approach. You raise a finger to your lips. Sam smiles as he returns his gaze to his book, while still peeking through his lashes to watch what you’re going to do.

You have no shoes on, so you’re able to glide across the floor unheard. You are about to jump on Dean’s back and surprise him. Suddenly, Dean turns around and throws you onto the table he was just leaning over. 

He pins your wrists to the wooden surface and looks down at you with a raised eyebrow. “You thought you could sneak up on me, Princess?” Dean scoffs. 

You scrunch up your face into a playful display of irritation. God damn those hunter instincts. “It was worth a try.” You try shrugging your shoulders but he is still pinning you down. “I’ll get you one of these days, Winchester!”

“You think so?” he quips with disbelief as he lowers himself down to capture your lips in a demanding kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back into him as you deepen the kiss. 

Sam clears his throat. You forgot someone else was in the room. You break the kiss and crane your neck to look over at your exacerbated friend. This new angle has given Dean more access to you. He takes full advantage. Dean sucks down over your pulse point and leaves wet and sloppy kisses over your clavicle. You giggle at the tickle of his scruff along your neck. You push Dean away when Sam rolls his eyes at you.

“Why don’t you guys take this back to your bedroom… or the dungeon like you did that one time,” Sam says with a teasing laugh.

Your mouth drops open. You can only gape at Sam as you realize what he said. You hear Dean snickering behind you. You turn around and smack his shoulder. “You told him!” you shout but the boys only laugh harder. Your cheeks are burning and you bury your face in your hands.

“Hey,” Dean leans in to pacify you, “Sammy, caught me cleaning the chains afterward. He’s a smart kid, Y/N/N… he guessed.” Dean shrugs and Sam’s laugh only deepens. 

“Yeah, but he won’t tell me which one was chained up… which means if he’s unwilling to say, then I think it was him,” Sam interjects.

You’re annoyed with Dean so a little payback is in order. You turn around on the table to face Sam directly, “Damn right it was! He even let me a put a-”

“Alright! That’s enough!” Dean interrupts you. He leans down and throws you over his shoulder. “Don’t worry Sammy we’re leaving. Share time is over.”

As Dean carries you out of the room, you look up at Sam. You make an obscene gesture with your hand that silently conveys what it is Dean let you do to him. When Sam starts laughing out loud in disgust, Dean slaps your ass and you squeak in surprise. 

“Whatever it is your doing… stop it,” Dean demands. 

Finally, Dean reaches your bedroom door and kicks it open. You have been sharing this room for the past three years. It was originally Dean’s room so it still has his guns and records on the wall. But, he allowed you to add your own treasures to his collection. The only thing Dean doesn’t allow, is for your stuffed bear to reside in the bed. Therefore, Pancakes the bear now lives on top of the dresser – he probably shouldn’t get a ringside seat to your nightly sin anyway.

Dean throws you onto the bed and hovers in over you. He places chaste kisses along your collarbone. “Anything yet?” he hums against your skin.

You simply shake your head. You cannot say the words. 

Dean’s lips leave you and he leans in to look you in the eyes. The warmth of his gaze burns into you and you feel tears starting to grow thick along the rims of your eyes. A quick blink sends a stray tear cascading down your face. Dean sits you up in a panic. 

“Hey, Sweetheart, look at me. This is not on you,” he reassures you as he wipes your tears away. “It’s okay, we’ll get there. We’ll have a family. I’m going to fill you up. You’re going to get nice and round for me. Then, we’re going to have a whole litter of rugrats running around this place, driving their Uncle Sammy nuts!”

Your lip quivers. You know you should tell him. But if he knew, he wouldn’t want you anymore. You don’t want to lose him. You have been talking about the prospect of starting a family for a few months now. He says it’s too soon to worry about anything being wrong. But, you already know what the problem is.

* * *

 

Growing up a hunter meant that you were always on the road. Your dad would leave for days on end and forget to leave you money for food. You would go hungry more often than not. You hated it at first, the constant pang of hunger and the growing weakness in your muscles. But then, something shifted. After puberty, even when your father remembered to leave food for you, you wouldn’t eat it. 

Being on the road meant you would constantly have to switch schools and make new friends. You found it was easier to fit in if you didn’t have the extra baby fat hanging off you. People were nicer to you. Boys paid attention to you. Being thin was your ticket into normal society. But you were never thin enough. 

It was a constant fear that plagued you for years. You ate the bare minimum, only enough to keep you standing. Luckily, your father was either oblivious to your dwindling stature or gone too often to notice. 

You hid underneath loose fitted clothing. You were disgusted with the remaining fat that still clung to you. You tried that much harder to rid yourself of your remaining flaws. 

You would feel a sense of pride when one granola bar would last you three whole days. 

You would feel an all-consuming guilt and shame when your father forced you to choke down an entire Greek salad in one sitting. He wouldn’t even let you put the dressing on the side. 

Your self-starvation came to a head when you were seventeen. Your father brought you along on one of his hunts. He was easing you into the life and you were taking on a simple salt and burn. However, the ghost had gotten the upper hand as your weak limbs were unable to withstand the kickback from the shotgun blast. The ghost threw your unstable body down a flight of stairs. 

Your father finished off the ghost easily on his own and rushed to your side. He took you to the hospital to check for internal injuries. Even in his panicked state, he still recognized how he could feel every bone in your back as he carried you to the car. 

The doctors informed your father about what you had been doing to yourself. He was livid. Hospital security had to kick him out of your room because of his belligerent behaviour in response to the news. 

Once the commotion settled and you were alone with your doctor, she pulled up a chair beside you. Her sympathetic eyes bore into you and you knew there was something she was hesitant to say.

“Y/N, the effects of the starvation, in addition to the impact of your fall,” she takes a deep breath, “it has rendered you infertile. I’m sorry Y/N, but you will be unable to ever conceive children. The damage was too great, there was nothing we could do.”

You tried to process her words. You had always told yourself that you never wanted kids. You never wanted to raise a child in this life. But, in the darkest recesses of your mind you always thought it was a possibility. There was always hope that you would find someone and you would want to start a family with him. You thought that would be your way out of this miserable life. But who would want you now? You have damaged yourself beyond repair. 

Your seventeen-year-old brain had a tendency to catastrophize your situation. However, as you went through recovery for your eating disorder, you learned to accept your situation. You learned to accept your life and what it will always be. What it will never be.  

Years after you got the news and were working through your recovery, you met the Winchesters. You were drawn to Dean instantly. He was everything. 

He was almost the definition of a free spirit, so you figured he would never want to be saddled with kids. You could not have been more wrong.

* * *

 

You lie in bed with Dean curled up against you. You are both naked and his open palm rests over the flatness of your lower stomach. His seed is leaking out of you and tears start to well in your eyes again. Dean’s eyes are closed and he nuzzles his forehead into the back of your shoulder. 

“I got to say Sweetheart, as much as I hope that I actually knocked you up this time… I really love the trying part,” Dean purrs as he nips at your shoulder. 

You cannot stop the tears from falling freely now. You push yourself out of his arms and out of the bed. You stumble into the washroom and heave into the toilet. Unfortunately, nothing but violent sobs come out. 

Dean is only seconds behind you. He crouches beside you and rubs your back. You can’t face him. You dread more than anything that he has gotten his hopes up and misattributed your fearful nausea for morning sickness.

“I can’t Dean,” you say in between sobs. “I can’t have kids.” 

Dean’s hand stills and then leaves your back. You regretfully turn to face him. 

He leans in and cups your cheek, “Don’t say that Sweetheart, you don’t know-”

“I do know.” You cast your eyes downward because you can’t look him in the eye with what you’re about to say. “I was just a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing to myself,” you explain mostly to yourself. “I’m sorry I never thought I would meet someone like you.”

“What do you mean, Y/N/N?” Dean asks with growing concern. He pulls you closer so you are resting in between his spread legs. You both are still naked but neither seem to notice nor care. 

“Do you remember when I told you about my issues with food – how I would starve myself when I was a kid because I thought-” Dean holds you tighter and nods when your breathing becomes uneven. “Well, I got hurt on a hunt back then and when I went to the hospital, the doctors said – they told me that I can’t have kids. The damage was already done.” Your hands are shaking and your breath is shuddering. 

The idea of looking up into Dean’s eyes is frightening. You fear the hatred you’ll see looking back at you. But, there is a greedy part of you that craves the comfort that you usually find in his green orbs. 

When you gain the courage to meet his gaze, he is not looking at you. You find no hatred but you find no comfort either. He is completely blank. 

“So, you’ve known. This whole time you’ve known that it was never going to happen,” it is not a question. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so scared. You’re everything to me and I wanted to give you everything but I-”

You feel Dean’s arms loosen around you. He is no longer cradling you but rather is pulling himself up and off the ground. 

You watch him leave the washroom. A part of you believes he is coming right back. But, your hope is shattered when after a few moments you here the bedroom door open and then slam shut. Every bone in your body wants to follow him. You need him to understand why you lied. But, all you are capable of is curling your naked body against the cold bathroom tile and letting the tears fall.

You must have cried yourself to sleep. The next thing you’re aware of is having a soft blanket draped over you. You are lifted off the ground and carried over to the bed. 

“I failed him, Sam. He deserves better. He deserves a family,” you say once you realize the strong arms holding you up belong to the youngest Winchester. 

“Is that what this is about? Dean went storming out of the bunker half an hour ago without a word. I wanted to give you time but when you didn’t come out-” 

“I told him I can’t have kids. He doesn’t want me anymore,” you interrupt.

“Y/N, that’s not true. He probably just needs time to adjust. But, he’ll realize soon that he wants you, kids or no kids,” Sam comforts as he wipes the fresh tears from your cheek.

“Do you really think so?” you whisper.

* * *

 

After checking three local bars, you finally found him. After you regained control over your senses, Sam and you went out to find Dean.

Because it took you so long to find him, he has already had more than his fair share of whiskey. His hair is disheveled and he’s looking into his glass as if it is providing him with an answer. 

You’re too nervous to make the first approach, so Sam takes the lead. “Dean?”

Dean peels his gaze from his glass but when his eyes shift to you behind his brother, he scoffs and returns to the amber. 

You take a deep breath. “Dean, why don’t you come home and we can talk this through in the morning. I mean there are other options,” you say more meekly than you intended.

Dean only scoffs again. “Like what, Sweetheart?” The nickname is not comforting but rather full of venom. He turns to face you, “Adoption?” Another humorless laugh escapes him when you nod and shrug. “Kid, who would let us adopt a baby? According to the outside world I’m a serial killer who is legally dead. And you… who would give you a baby?” Dean bites out as he takes another sip. 

“Dean-” Sam warns when he sees you are stunned into silence.

“No Sammy, maybe this is for the best! She let me believe there was a light at the end of shitty tunnel. She gave me hope. She lied to me, that is the real problem here!” He turns to where you are now feverishly wiping your tears away and biting your quivering lip. “If you can’t handle being honest with me, the person you said you wanted to share your life with, what makes you think you can handle having a kid?” He looks down to your stomach, “But I guess you’ll never have to worry about that, will you Sweetheart?”

His voice is pure bitterness. For a moment, you wonder if a demon had processed him because your Dean would never say these things to you. But, the unshed tears in his eyes tells you that this is all him. These words are his. 

Sam steps toward his brother with clenched fists, but you put a hand on his shoulder to pull him back. You deserve this. He was right. 

“Do you want me gone?” ask already knowing the answer. 

Dean doesn’t even bother replying. He just turns his gaze back to his nearly empty glass and finishes it off. He taps the glass to the bar to signal for a refill. He completely ignores your pleading eyes. You have your answer. 

You’re almost to the door when Sam stops you. “Don’t go! He’s drunk out of his mind right now… I didn’t even think he could get this drunk anymore. But, this isn’t him! He’ll wake up tomorrow and regret every word… if he even remembers,” Sam tries to assure you. 

You risk a glance back to the bar where a young brunette has slipped into the seat next to Dean. He looks back at you. Your eyes meet but his are filled with utter detachment. He then turns is attention fully onto his new companion. 

“No, he won’t Sammy,” you breathe out. “When he has a clear mind again, tell him I’m sorry. Please make sure he finds what he wants. He deserves more than one night with the brunette bombshells he meets in bars. And, he sure as hell deserves more than me,” you shrug before exiting the bar.

* * *

 

For years before you met the Winchesters you would hunt alone. You were good at your job, you had a system. Unfortunately, hunting is not like riding a bike. You had gotten so used to having two burly men as back up. You had a hard time remembering how you functioned without them. 

Being on your own was dangerous, especially since you became known in the monster world as someone the Winchesters care for. If only they knew how little Dean actually cared for you. 

You hadn’t seen or heard from the Winchesters in four years. Sam kept in touch for a little while but you eventually stopped answering his calls. Dean’s voice in the background sent you spiraling back to square one, where you could barely get out of bed most days. 

But today you were back in Kansas. You were only a couple towns over from Lebanon. So, you wanted to finish this hunt and get the hell across the country before you ran into your old partners. 

The hunt was easy enough. Only one freshly minted vamp whose sire did not stick around long enough to teach him how to feed discreetly. Unfortunately, this vamp got in a few good hits before you took him down. 

Now, you’re standing in the middle of this understocked drugstore holding closed the gaping wound on your ribs while you load up on all the gauze they have. 

You’re rushing out of the aisle when a tiny human crashes into your legs. You drop your basket but keep one hand on your ribs while you help the speeding child off the ground. 

“Shit! Bobby!” a gruff and familiar voice bellows from across the store. The owner of that voice stops dead in his tracks when he sees who is son has crashed into. 

You raise to your full height and look down at the child in front of you. Then, your gaze shifts to the green-eyed man whose mouth is agape as words fail him.

“Bobby?” you ask Dean as he slowly approaches you and his son. 

Dean nods. 

You smile and look at the brunette boy who is staring at you quizzically – only a child can look so curious. 

“Pleased to meet you, Bobby. I was a friend of your dad’s once upon a time.”

The boy looks to his father for reassurance. Dean nods. Bobby sticks his arm out in a gesture for you to shake his hand. You cannot stifle the warm smile that spreads across your lips. Without thinking, you remove your right hand from where it is holding the wound on your ribs.

“Daddy, she’s red!” Bobby says with genuine concern and you put your hand back into your coat to hold your wound. 

“Y/N-” Dean finally is able to speak but as he reaches out to touch you, you flinch away from him. 

“I should go,” you say as you abandon your much-needed gauze and leave the store. When you get to your car, you see Dean rush out of the door with Bobby in his arms and he yells your name. But, you’re already gone. 

With both hands on the wheel, you wound is bleeding freely now. Your knuckles are white and your vision is blurring due to unshed tears. 

You left because you didn’t want Bobby to see you. He looked so innocent. He is a Winchester, so you know one day he will learn about the life. But, you don’t want to be the one that stains his innocence with your bloodied form. 

Dean could have helped you. He could have stitched you up but he’s not your savior anymore. He has a child and where there is a child there is usually a mother. You have gone four years without a word from Dean. If he wanted you in his life, he would have found you. You can’t interrupt his new life.

* * *

 

Dean hurriedly straps Bobby into the car-seat that physically pained him to install into Baby’s precious leather. He peals out of the parking lot and drives in the direction he saw your car go. His eyes search the surrounding streets to no avail. He pulls off to the back roads that lead out of town. He knows you, you would try to make a stealthy escape.

It is nothing but a straight two-lane road surrounded by fields. He sees your car in the distance. He drives a little faster to catch up but not fast enough to put his passenger at risk. Dean can only watch in horror as your car starts to swerve slightly. You are no longer driving very fast but when you veer off the road, your car teeters on the edge of a ditch. Dean panics and stops Baby abruptly. He warns Bobby to stay put and dashes out toward your car. 

You are slumped over the wheel still clutching it tightly as you cough up blood onto the dashboard. Dean rips open your door and can now see the steady stream of blood seeping out of your side. Your head lulls back and you no longer feel the pain.

* * *

 

Your eyes struggle to open. Your throat is dry and your muscles are tired. The room is quiet except for the sound of beeping. But, it’s not the beeping of a heart monitor at a hospital like you expected. The beeping is more high-pitched and follows a musical pattern. 

You crane your neck toward the sound and see a three-year-old boy fiddling with a tablet that is too large for his tiny fingers. 

“You’re awake!” the boy yells excitedly as he throws his tablet down and jumps onto the bed beside you. 

You successfully stifle a wince of pain at his abrupt movements. He reaches over and gently places a hand over your forehead. “Doctor Bobby says you’re going to be just fine!” he says with pride. 

Bobby. Dean. The memories of your run in at the store comes rushing back. The boy sitting beside you starts looking concerned when you fail to respond to his assessment of you. 

“Is that your professional opinion?” You ask with a raised eyebrow of dramatic curiosity and a hoarse voice. You can still taste the blood in your mouth and your side is on fire. But, the boy doesn’t need to know. He is a nice distraction. 

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out two Band-Aids. “My dad got me these. He said they’re special Band-Aids that will make you feel better no matter what.” Bobby opens the package and places the sticky side to the back of your hand – maybe the one place on your entire body that actually doesn’t hurt. 

You lift your hand to see the Scooby-Doo themed Band-Aid. You can’t stop the laugh that comes out despite the pain. Bobby laughs with you, although you have a feeling he doesn’t get why you’re really laughing. 

You two are interrupted by the door swinging open. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I told you to stay out of this room!” Dean bellows to his son who slides off the bed. 

“Dean, It’s okay. He was just patching me up,” you say as you raise your hand to show Dean his son’s handy work. 

Dean’s face softens for only a moment. “Bobby, go take that tablet back to Uncle Sammy, he’s been looking for it.”

Bobby gathers his things but before he leaves he kisses your Band-Aid covered hand. “All better!” he says and for a moment you believe him. But then, once he leaves and your stuck in a room alone with Dean Winchester, you now know it is not ‘all better’.

Neither of you know where to start. Dean sits at the end of your bed and rests his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands through his hair and you just now noticing how tired he looks. 

“How long was I-?” you break the silence.

“1438 days.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” you say as you try to sit yourself up. You don’t want to think about Dean counting the days you have been apart. You grunt in pain as sitting up proves to be more difficult than you thought. Dean instinctively reaches for you and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch. Much like he cannot stop himself from lingering over you for longer than he needs to.

“How long ‘till I can get out of your hair?” you ask once you realize how easy it would be to fall back in with him.

“You want to leave?” the genuine surprise in his voice catches you off guard. 

“Dean, I can’t stay. We both know I don’t fit into your life anymore – if I ever did. But it’s different now, you have Bobby and… his mother,” you say with great apprehension. You always wanted Dean to get the family he deserves. But, the idea of meeting the woman who could give him what you never could, makes you stomach churn. 

Dean just laughs. “Bobby’s mom barely stuck around long enough to for me to cut the cord before she ran off.”

“I’m sorry,” you actually mean it. A kid as sweet as Bobby doesn’t deserve to be abandoned. 

“God damn it, Y/N don’t apologize to me! The things I said to you-” Dean can no longer look you in the eye.  “I just let you walk out that door without even-” Dean is overwhelmed by his quick succession of thoughts. “Just don’t apologize to me, Sweetheart. I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for how I handled our situation. I had to grow up a lot raising Bobby on my own and I realize now that I wasn’t the only one who lost something. I know how much you wanted a family too. I should never have put the blame on you. I’m so fucking sorry, Sweetheart,” Dean says as he takes your shaking hands in his. 

“What’s done is done. I forgave you a long time ago, Dean. But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for ruining what we had.”

“You didn’t-”

“I did. But you finally got what you always wanted so I guess everything worked out for the best.”

Dean’s head snaps up and he narrows his eyes at you. “You think all I wanted was a kid? Y/N, the kid was only half of it. I wanted a family. You are that missing other half. Bobby is everything to me. But when he took his first steps or said his first words I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to share those moments with you. I love you, Y/N. Please just stay. Stay to get to know the new me. Stay and get to know us. I’m  _ not _ asking you to step in as Bobby’s new mom but I know he really seems to like you so far. And, I think you’d really like him. You two could be really good friends one day.”

A little laugh escapes your lips. “Dean, that kid already has me wrapped his finger. You’re doing an amazing job with him,” you hold Dean’s gaze while you speak to make sure he knows it’s the truth. You can only imagine the hours of sleep he has lost over worrying about being a good father and keeping Bobby safe. Your gaze lowers to your hands, “I’ve always loved you, Dean. I know that you are it for me. But, that’s why I need to leave.” Dean squeezes your hand as if he holds you tight enough then you won’t slip away again. “I’ve gotten myself into some trouble these past few years. I’ve had some nasty demons on my tail for the last little while. If they catch my scent around your new family, they won’t hesitate to use you guys against me. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I put your boy at risk. I need to go, Dean.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Sweetheart? Sammy and I have more enemies than anyone. We’ve dealt with it then and we’ll deal with it now,” there is a slight panic in Dean’s voice. 

“Dean, Bobby is your priority. I would give anything to say yes and stay but right now I come with too much baggage. Too many things want me dead and I can’t drop my problems at your family’s feet. It’s not fair to anyone, especially Bobby.”

Dean moves his hand to grasp the back of your neck and rests his forehead against yours. “You’re my family too. Don’t leave me, again. Don’t leave us.” 

“I’m leaving  _ for _ you.” 

Dean pulls away and shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m not letting you leave so you can just be hunted down and draw the fire away. I promised you years ago that you wouldn’t be alone in this life. I failed you so far but I’m going to make it right.”

Dean’s eyes are filled with unshed tears and you feel his fingers cling to your skin for dear life. It almost breaks your resolve. Almost. You give him a small nod and blink away your tears, “Can we talk about this later? I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and I want a clear head before I make any decisions,” you whisper in a nearly broken voice.

“Of course, Sweetheart,” Dean leans in and kisses your forehead. When he pulls away, the temptation to place a chaste kiss to his lips overrides your better judgment. The kiss is soft and quick. But, it’s familiar and makes you feel safe for the first time in four years. 

Dean gets up from your bed but before he gets too far, you pull on his arm to keep him still. “I do love you, Dean. No matter what, it will always be you.”

Dean leans over to kiss your forehead once more before he slips out of the room to let you sleep.

* * *

 

“Daddy will be  _ so _ mad at you!” a tiny voice whispers from behind you as you make your way to the bunker’s garage. 

“What are you doing up?” You ask as you look to your watch to see it is well past any normal child’s bedtime.

“I wanted to see if you were awake and needed another Band-Aid,” Bobby says as he holds up a box of Scooby-Doo adhesives. 

The pain in your chest grows a little tighter. This boy is every bit as caring as his father. You wish more than anything you could be there to meet the man he will become. But you can’t. 

“Daddy says you need to stay in bed. You’re not better yet. Where are you going?” Bobby asks when you fail to respond to him. 

“As I remember, Doctor Bobby already said I was all better,” you say with a genuine smile. But, it quickly fades. “I’ve got a job to do, kid. I don’t belong here.”

“Will you come back to visit?”

“Maybe one day,” you crouch down to his eye level, ignoring the pain it causes in your side. “I’m glad your Daddy has you. You’re exactly who I’ve always envisioned you would be,” you say as you push his long brown hair out of his face. You smile when you realize his hair is more reminiscent of his uncle than his dad. But then you see his deep green eyes peering through thick lashes and you know that he is all Dean’s. 

The boy wraps his arms around your neck and a stray tear involuntarily slips down your cheek. When he pulls away, he hands you his prized box of special Band-Aids. “Just in case,” he shrugs. He looks to where you are clutching your side as you pull yourself up to your full height. He is too young, too innocent, to have such worry in his eyes. That too, he gets from his father. 

That only steels your resolve. You will not be a source of darkness for this little ball of light. 

“Thanks kid,” you hope your smile does not look as broken as it feels. 

Bobby watches you turn and leave the bunker. He can only see your retreat. So, he cannot see your freely falling tears of regret. Nor can he see the painful but genuine smile on your face. Your life may be forever plagued with lonely darkness. But, knowing that Dean is living your dream for the both of you, makes the pain a little easier to bear.

  
  



End file.
